


Marked

by glorious_clio



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, some smut but lots of consent i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:44:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5836603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_clio/pseuds/glorious_clio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr has this lovely idea of a universe where when you meet your soulmate, you carry a mark on your arm, and that’s how you know.  So this is Han and Leia in that AU.  Other than that, it's completely canon compliant and contains major spoilers for The Force Awakens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marked

She wears long sleeves and is incredibly distracted, so she doesn’t notice the Mark until just before the celebrations.  There will be an official award ceremony tomorrow, but if she knows anything, there will be drinking and dancing until dawn, and she should at least put in an appearance.  

Leia fills her tub full of hot water (a shower would be quicker, but she can be late), pours in a large amount of bubble bath, salts, perfumes, and climbs in the tub, immersing herself immediately and letting her long long hair float around her.  Alone at last.  

She knows she’ll need a check-up tomorrow with the medical bay - who knows what kind of lasting damage has been done to her body - her mind - her soul.  And for the first time, Leia cries.  

She cries for herself, for her family, for Alderaan, even for the Death Star.  For everything that she couldn’t let herself cry about these past few hellish days.  And then, she stops.  There’s work to do.  She washes her long long hair, conditioning it lovingly, her living link to Alderaan’s culture.  She soaps up a sponge  and, starting with her shoulders, washes as much of the gross and the grime off of her as possible.  When she reaches her left elbow, she notices the Mark and swears loudly.  

When she finally shows up at the party, hair perfect, nearly every inch of her skin covered, everyone is already drunk and no one notices the dirty glances she keeps throwing at Han Solo.

* * *

He wears long sleeves and is incredibly distracted, so he doesn’t notice the Mark until just after the celebrations.  The Stormtrooper suit kept the filth from the garbage compactor off of him, so unlike Chewie, he does very little in the way of grooming before the drinking and dancing.  He notices Leia slip off, though, and when she returns, she looks perfect and shining, but also he can tell she’s in a bad mood.  He stays clear of her; he’s been yelled at enough.  

The next morning he wakes up and hits the shower, noticing the Mark inside his left elbow.  His hungover brain tries to explain it as a practical joke courtesy of what’s left of Rogue Squadron. But this is no tattoo, and only one face popped into his mind when he sees it.  Han swears loudly.

When he, Luke, and Chewie turn up at the Ceremony, Han is a little fidgety and nervous, and he pushes thoughts about weddings and brides out of his mind.  One little Mark won’t make Han Solo soft!  But the sight of Leia in another white gown, the prettiest one so far, empties his mind completely.  He’s all smiles when she places the medal around his neck, though he wipes it away when she only has a smile for the kid.  His Mark twinges and he’s not jealous.  

* * *

They bicker and argue and fight all the time, annoying everyone at every Rebel Base between Yavin IV and the Hoth system.  They both end up venting to Luke, and when they ask his opinion, he shrugs and tries to change the subject. Once, he suggests to Han that he might try being nicer to Leia if he really wants to be friends with her, and was treated to a ninety minute lecture on how Han didn’t want to be friends with a spoiled, stuck-up (capable, beautiful general), Princess.

Which is true.  

Equally true is that Leia doesn’t want to be friends with Han, either.  

They can’t shake each other.  Chewie suspects the truth and, like Luke, tries to keep out of it as much as he can.  

Luke and Leia become close, as much a surprise to her as to anyone else, but Han knows Luke has a way of burrowing into your life and becoming difficult to extract.  Like a metal sliver. In your eye.  Yet Luke is still in Rogue Squadron with missions to fly, and when he’s gone, Han follows Leia like a shadow.  Not because he likes her.  But for her protection. Or something.  Not that she ever tells him off too much when she’s missing Luke so badly she can feel the vacuum he leaves behind.   

Everyone is quick to observe the anniversary of the Death Star (still their most decisive victory), but when Leia doesn’t show up at the party, neither does Han. He is found later by Chewie outside Leia’s door, standing guard.  Well, more slouched on a chair outside her door messing with a datapad to pass the time.  And not that she needs a guard, but it is a nice gesture while she tries to sleep, worrying at her Mark.  

She sees his Mark once, he’s rolled up his sleeves and is up to his wrists in the wiring of the  _ Millennium Falcon _ .  Leia misinterprets it as a tattoo, and when he refuses (again) to sign the volunteer agreement she brings him as a result, they have their biggest fight yet.  When Han runs into the bounty hunter of Ord Mantell, it sounds to both of them like he might really leave for good.

Fine with Leia.

* * *

Of course, things don’t ever work out like she plans, and she ends up on his stupid ship, traveling at sub-light speed to a destination that’s making her increasingly uncomfortable, even as Han tries to soothe her.

Wait- what?

And she realizes he’s not wearing a Rebellion tattoo on the inside of his elbow.  That’s a stupid place for a tattoo anyway.  He’s a Marked man.  

She wants to curse again, talk to him, but they never get another chance to be alone on Cloud City.

Leia tells him anyway.

He knew all along.  

Her Mark flares hot but cools quickly and Leia is relieved to hear he survives the carbon freezing.  She and Chewie and Lando act boldly to save him, but they are not fast enough.  Even as Boba Fett flies off, she resolves to get him back.  She’s lost enough at Vader’s hands.  

* * *

She finds herself absently brushing her Mark with her fingertips several times a day, waiting to hear from Lando. Luke tells her about his training, and she’s grateful for the distraction.  

* * *

He still can’t see.  He stumbles around and even lets her help him but though she wants to show him how much she loves him, she mostly just wants to show him her Mark.  Besides, they’re both exhausted, and she’s wearing every article of clothing she brought with her and isn’t sure she ever wants to take them off.  

They fall asleep in a comfortable knot in his bunk while Lando and Chewie fly the _Falcon_ back to the base.  

Between her and Chewie, they all but drag the still vision-impaired Han to the med-bay as soon as he wakes up.  Eighteen months of forced hibernation after torture at the hands of Darth Vader haven’t done Han any favors. She also orders a full psych eval, just because she’s feeling particularly... protective? Cruel? He’ll survive. 

Leia spends the next two days in meetings, planning the attack on the second Death Star. (It’s hard to sit through these meetings, after what the first one stole from her.) Finally she finds an hour to track down Han.  

She finds him on the  _ Falcon _ , of course.  Lando and Chewie are nowhere in sight.  

He flashes a lazy grin at her.  “Clean bill of health,” he brags.  

Leia smiles back, refusing to be shy. 

He’s fixing something in the engine bay, a fuel pump has been knocking loose and he’s replacing it.  

“Can I help?”

“Your hands will get dirty.”

“Then we’ll match.”

The pass most of her free hour like this, passing tools and materials, testing their work, nothing said that wasn’t necessary to the task at hand. It’s nice.  Finally, she sits back on her heels, satisfied at a job well done.  Han settles beside her and wraps an arm loosely around her shoulders.  

It’s now or never, Leia thinks, and, turning to look at him, pulls up her left sleeve.  Han watches her eyes, knowing what she wants to show him and is more or less satisfied to slow down and wait a moment. He’s always so god-damned impatient, but he doesn’t want to rush this.  

After a few heartbeats, he kisses her on the forehead and looks down to see what she’s offering, and of course, it’s the  _ Falcon _ . What else could it be?

He gently brushes a finger across it, leaving a trail of grime.  

“There, now it really looks like her.”

Leia knocks him over and they are kissing and groping on the floor like teenagers, the grates digging into Han’s back and he barely even notices when her alarm goes off.  

Time for the next briefing, next mission, next...

She kisses him again, harder than before and then pulls herself off him. 

He follows her to the briefing.  

* * *

He keeps touching her around the bonfires of Endor.  Holding her hand, brushing her hair back, pulling her into hugs.  

She’s a little drunk, and so is he, and Luke and Chewie and Wedge and Lando and Mon Mothma and pretty much everyone, drunk on that terrible alcohol the Ewoks shared, or what Rogue Squadron has smuggled here, on the victory they managed tonight.  It’s nice and she’s warm and every time Han takes her elbow her Mark tingles as his fingers brush it.  He’s doing it on purpose, she’s sure.  

They stumble back to the Falcon and Leia distracts him from the missing dish by pulling him up the ramp and beginning to untie the laces of her dress.  He sputters once more about  _ not a scratch _ and follows after her.  She stops at the top of the ramp and the moment he closes it she’s back in his arms and they’re moving slowly through the corridors to his cabin.  

She’s a bit dizzy but his kisses seem to actually sober her up and she is razor focused on that thing he’s doing with his tongue, like he’s trying to slowly taste every corner of her mouth. For his part, he tastes like Corellian Ale and it’s not a bad thing.  In a flash, he rolls her over and begins kissing her neck and it’s heavenly and she never ever wants this moment to end.  He could kiss her pulsepoint forever and she probably wouldn’t complain too much.  

When he brushes his lips down over her collarbones, she shivers, and he glances up, checking in with her.  

“Keep it up, nerfherder,” she manages.  

“As her highness commands,” he teases and pulls his vest off.

She begins unbuckling his belt.  If she’s shocked him, it doesn’t show on his face, he merely tugs at her laces and eventually between the two of them, they manage to remove every inch of clothing between them.  She should feel exposed.  She’s no virgin, but her experiences have always left her too vulnerable, too embarrassed.  This with Han is different, and she suspects that if they weren’t Marked, she’d feel the same.  Safe, whole, herself. 

She pushes him down under her and traces his scars with her tongue.  His moan feels like a reward, and she continues.  They explore and tease and vex, their lovemaking feels like their bickering, a knowing one-upmanship that will never ever stop.  They keep switching positions, and it’s like dancing with two leaders, improvising their choreography. 

Finally, finally he pulls her back on top and she slides onto him and after all that build up, neither of them last very long at all before she’s collapsed in his arms, almost crying with her own relief at this exquisite orgasm coursing through her veins; he’s holding her tightly, combing her hair over her back.  She can’t quite bring herself to move from her position, splayed across his body, head tucked into his neck.  

“Am I crushing you?” she asks when their breathing starts to return to normal, though she has no intention of moving.

“Mmmno,” he drags out.  

“Good.”  

His left arm tightens his hold around her waist and he closes his eyes. They are listening to each other’s heartbeat, not in the same rhythm, but settling into a complimenting tempo.  His right hand finds her elbow and he brushes over the tiny imprint of the  _ Millennium Falcon _ that appeared there so unexpectedly on the worst day of her life.  

He likes being the best part of her worst days.  

She doesn’t fall asleep, not right away. Her blood is still singing and her body gets keyed up after sex, more awake and... energized.  But Leia does inch off of Han and curls up next to him.  

Han cracks an eye open at her.  “No regrets?”

She shakes her head. “Nope, that was pretty good for me.”

“Pretty good?”

“I mean, I can usually get the job done faster, but you weren’t too bad.”

He growls and pulls her into his arms a little roughly, but she doesn’t mind.  She’s laughing, in fact.  

“You want fast, Leia?”

“Cool your jets, flyboy. I’m too tired for another round.”  As if to punctuate her sentence, she yawns and stretches out a little.

“Tomorrow then.”

“It’s a deal.”

They are laying there, loosely entwined under a heavy blanket.  She’s just about to doze off when Han surprises her with “Should I have used a condom?”

“Is this your way of telling me you have an STI?”

“No, I don’t, but...”

She shrugs.  “You don’t have to worry about that.” She hasn’t had her cycle since before the first Death Star. She suspects because of stress, so worrying about it isn’t going to bring it back.  “But thank you, you’re such a gentleman.”

“Told you I was a nice man.”

She smiles into the dark.  

* * *

They manage to build a life together - it’s never easy, nothing ever in her life goes according to plan, after all. He’s officially a general with the Alliance now (she still outranks him), and they’re both sent out on mission after mission, because the Empire doesn’t end with the Emperor.  Things change when she gets pregnant (she thinks she should have been a little less cavalier about that.  Luke says that the Force will find a way to bring life into the galaxy).  There is a tickle in her mind, tentative but sharp, different from the twin suns that represent Luke in her mind.  Han turns pale when she tells him, and for once in his life he doesn’t have a snarky comeback.  But she gets less missions and she itches at that.  

She is a little lost after they take Coruscant and end the Empire once and for all.  Leia and Luke manage to track down their mother, and astonishingly, a living aunt and two cousins on Naboo.  

Han and Leia are not perfect parents, but they try.  They try so hard, and Luke convinces them that they should train Ben. And soon (so soon), Ben surpasses the lessons Leia can teach him of the Force, and he wants to build his own lightsaber. Leia, unable to fight her son and her twin, agrees that Luke should train him.

Han and Chewie go on more and more adventures, and she’s less and less interested in going with them.

Their Marks never fade, though.

Not even after Ben betrays them.  

Luke doesn’t come home.  And then Han doesn’t.  Too many fights, too much pain, too many words unspoken.  Han still stops at Resistance bases (he sometimes calls it the Rebellion, and he’s right, it’s the same thing). Sometimes he stays the night and she steals aboard the  _ Falcon _ for a few precious hours. These meetings are short and the parting painful for both of them. But she looks forward to them.  

* * *

She wears long sleeves and is incredibly distracted, so she doesn’t notice the Mark until just before the celebrations.  There will again be an official celebration tomorrow, but nothing has changed.  There will be drinking and dancing until dawn, and once again, she should at least put in an appearance.  The Starkiller Base is destroyed, Luke’s map is complete; despite heavy losses there’s still much to celebrate.  

For old time’s sake, she puts goes on to put a white dress, even though Han won’t be there.  

And as she’s changing, she sees that the Mark has become a scar.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to all who gave this the green light! I'm sorry I hurt you, (maddie kitty gretch).


End file.
